SPOILER SPEAKS

I"M A MEMBER OF THE...

2009-09-22T22:32:00.005-04:00

(click the image, dumbass)

WWW.SPOILERART.COM

2009-09-12T22:42:00.001-04:00

Updated. I think I might just use that blog from now on. Not sure.

THIS AGGRESSION WILL NOT STAND

2009-07-27T20:36:00.005-04:00

Big things are happening here at Spoiler HQ!

OMEGAS put a brand new song online, it will appear on the 4-song "Sonic Order" E.P. on High Anxiety Records this fall.

ADULT CRASH demo'd three new songs with the new and improved line-up.

FOREIGN BODIES just put out a demo.

Updates will follow, you mother fucker.

RIGHTEOUS JAMS, MORGADO, AND THE SUPERNATURAL

2009-07-23T16:58:00.002-04:00

It must have been around 1996 when my best friend Tom got the internet at his parent's place. I spent most of my summer there anyway, because his parents would go on trips and leave us tons of food and money to rent movies and nintendo games. He would always go online until he went to bed, which is when I would go online until ridiculously late hours of the night (a habit I can't seem to shake to this day).

One night I was talking to a girl who claimed her mother had supernatural powers. I laughed at her. I laughed until the mother, who was in the room with the girl, wanted to talk to me. Sure, why not, voodoo lady. She was actually really nice and funny, and asked me some questions. She asked if I had ever been able to tell if the phone was going to ring before it did, and such. She could tell I was not buying any of her mumbo jumbo, so she started to describe my surroundings. She could tell I was in a dark room, with a small light at the left of me. She could tell I was wearing shorts and a white t-shirt. This was all accurate, and no, Tom did not have a webcam.

I was still not buying it. Lucky guesses. I asked her how she knew. That's when it got real. She said she communicated with spirits, and she had found one near me. She said he was standing next to me, and was describing me and my surroundings to her. It sounds like some X-Files nonsense now, but to a teenager alone in a dark room, it was enough to feel uncomfortable.

She kept giving me accurate, detailed information. Then, she said I had a scar on my left leg, right in between my knee and ankle. HA. She slipped up. I did not have any scars on my legs. Bull Shit. So much for ghosts, lady. She replied claiming that sometimes she could see into the future. Yea, good save, I thought, but she guaranteed one day I would have a scar on my left leg as she described. Whatever, lady.

Almost a decade later I was on tour with Justice in the US. The Boston show was the record release for RJ's "Rage of Discipline" LP. I was moshing when Morgado started throwing garbage cans around and getting wild. At one point he grabbed me from behind and ran forward, for some reason or other, and I got smashed into the stage. I kept going, but after the song I noticed I was bleeding. Whatever.

I didn't realize it was a fairly deep cut until I took a shower that night. I put a bandaid on it and didn't worry about it much. I was on tour.

I don't remember how long it took me to realize that this wound had turned into a permanent scar. The stage had been about a foot high, and I got cut on my left leg, right in between my knee and ankle. I can't really describe how I felt when I remembered her, that fucking lady. That god damn supernatural ghost lady, she was right. That scar was staring right back at me. It hit me. I wasn't scared, or worried, but it was profound.

I don't really believe in ghosts, in spirits, or the supernatural. That said, I don't exclude them from my belief system either. I find it best to just not worry about it too much. I don't know how that lady predicted that scar. Maybe she took a wild guess, maybe she really did put a spirit next to me. All I know is she predicted the only visible scar I've ever had. Ironically, it did eventually fade. It was there for a good three years. So now, I don't even have proof of this ridiculous story anymore. Believe it or not, it matters little to me. But the Rage of Discipline record release will always have a different meaning to me than it does to you.

I LOVE THE INTERNET

2009-06-26T02:15:00.003-04:00

More email lolz: http://dontevenreply.com/

MOVE OVER, LOLCAT

2009-05-08T02:13:00.002-04:00

AND MAKE ROOM FOR KEYBOARD CAT.

Keyboard Cat Blog

THIS HAMMER I'VE GOT

2009-04-25T00:40:00.000-04:00

This just dropped today. Shoot out to Craig Arms.

FOUND

2009-04-09T01:00:00.001-04:00

I found this in my inbox after cleaning it up. I don't remember where I got it, but it's Porcell talking about Schism fanzine, so it's probably from LW. Either way, good read:

When I did the Agnostic Front interview for issue #7, I also wanted to interview John Watson, who was the original AF singer and by that time a notorious Cro-Mags roadie who spraypainted "CROMAGS" on every city block of the lower east side. One day I saw him in the health food store I worked at and told him I was doing an article on AF for my fanzine and asked if I could interview him. He looked right through me for about 10 seconds and then said "You're in maya (illusion) bro... HAAAARE KRISHNAAAA!" and walked away. On a side note, John Watson gets my vote for the best mosher/stagediver in hardcore history. As legends go he invented the circle pit. Whether that's true or not, one thing's for certain, he was the first to come up with the fistpunching "mosh dance" that kids do some 25 years later, but never with as much style as that guy.

I also saw James "The Russian" Kontra, the second singer for AF, on Avenue A one night around the same time and also asked to interview him for Schism. He just looked at me and didn't say a word. I'm not sure if he didn't speak English or wanted to kick my ass, but after about 60 of the most awkward seconds of my life, I just walked away. That dude was not one to be messed with.

Around the time I interviewed Al Barile of SS Decontrol for issue #8, SSD had gained a reputation as "sellouts" due to the releases of the overtly non-hardcore/classic rock vibes of How We Rock and Break It Up. When I asked him the question "How do you feel when people say SSD stabbed hardcore in the back?", the written word doesn't do Al justice, because his response was like an attacking pitbull as he screamed at the top of his lungs into the phone "Ya know what I think? I THINK HARDCORE STABBED US IN THE BACK!" Homeboy was pissed!

DOLPHINS, MOE

2009-03-17T18:19:00.005-04:00

©SPOILER'09

YOU DON'T WANT NO CHOCOLATE IN YO VANILLA?

2009-03-14T16:57:00.005-04:00

I just spent an entire saturday afternoon watching youtubes. It's 5 pm and I'm still in bed. I haven't even eaten breakfast yet. I watched a couple of early 90s rap jams and then some black metal parodies (theres some good ones out there) and eventually I stumbled upon an old classic, the perfect mix of both:

I found the caller's site, he's got a pretty sick remix of this call plus a bunch of other prank calls, some pretty good ones in there. Enjoy: Original Pranksta

I USED TO TAKE PICTURES

2009-03-12T19:42:00.003-04:00

YNGWIE

2009-02-23T10:19:00.004-05:00

The first tape my dad ever made me was a memorex with yellow labels, featuring Yngwie Malmsteen "Trilogy" on side A and Helloween "Keeper of the Seven Keys" on side B. I must have been around 6 or 7 when he gave it to me. Apparently it was the two records I responded to most, so he dubbed them for me so I could listen to them in my room.
Two decades later, I'm sad to say not a lot of people remember Yngwie (Helloween does a bit better). I see it as my duty to keep the spirit of music alive, so let's talk Malmsteen. This Scandinavian master basically tried to play operas on his guitar as a little kid, and so developed his own epic sound. The man was such an incredible guitarplayer that he could put out records under his own name, without even singing on them. He just got random dudes to sing and play the non-shredding instruments, like it was all just filler to him. Amazing. Well, if you want any more bland info, check wikipedia. I know you're too lazy to do that, or to download any of his albums, so here. Let's just go the youtube route. This is the video for "You Don't Remember (I'll Never Forget)", the first song off the Trilogy album (also my favorite Yngwie jam):

This video features everything a good cock rock video needs. Seen in chronological order:
Fast cars, men that look like fast women, pirate shirts, a drummer making obscene tongue gestures, a multitude of completely ridiculous guitar-throwing moves, bandanas tied around mic stands, Yngwie doing a low kick in spandex, Yngwie's classic pose (1:17), an obvious Cro-Mags reference (2:08), Marshall stacks, green alien lights emanating from a guitar during a ridiculous solo, and the best post guitar solo sequence in a music video ever: Yngwie waving at his guitar while playing a one handed outro to his own solo, footage of cops arresting a rocker interspersed with the bassplayer oddly swinging his bass left and right, imitating either a grandfather clock or a huge cock, Yngwie doing a high kick in spandex, and finally a good half minute of ridiculous poses intertwined with shots of the crowd, featuring a hot babe, who when viewed in slow motion clearly wants a piece of Malmsteen. As should anyone who just saw that.

COOCH SEZ

2009-02-16T19:15:00.004-05:00

"i just got a breakdown gig-soliciting tape today that pre-dates the '87 demo"

no big deal.

THOUSANDS OF WORDS pt III

2009-02-11T20:15:00.014-05:00

The memory on my phone is full, so here is every picture I took with it.

DANZIG LYRICS WORD COUNT

2009-01-09T13:12:00.006-05:00

I asked my friend Kim, who I speak to about Danzig and nothing else, which word she thought Glenn used more throughout his lyrical career: "Wolf" or "Hell". Her answer was Hell. Out of sheer curiosity and nerdery, I compiled a word document of every lyric Danzig ever released (no, I didn't put "Rat Fink" and no I didn't put any songs twice if they were recorded twice) and did a word count. Well, she was right. Here's a few results.

Hell: 165
Evil: 127
Blood: 120
Die: 109
Death: 101
Black: 96
Dead: 66
Pain: 66
Demon: 48
Mother: 32
Wolf: 25
Beast: 25
Horror: 22
Father: 13
Mars: 13
Dying: 12
Sex: 12
Cum: 7
Sexy: 0
Puppies: 0
Pizza: 0

He also used "World" a stunning 145 times, but that's not that cool. If there's any words you'd like me to do a count for, comment them and I will reply.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

2008-12-24T18:20:00.007-05:00

Oh wait, that's not Santa. That's Sinterklaas. He's the real deal. He's the guy that Coca-Cola ripped off to create Santa. He's a tall, skinny version with a pope hat and a sick golden staff. He looks like he could beat the shit out of Santa with that thing. On Dec. 6th he brings gifts to kids in Belgium and Holland. Not because of some lame religion, just because gifts are awesome. He comes down on his boat from Spain and brings oranges. He rides a white horse across the rooftops and he has slaves that go down the chimney to drop off the presents, and pick up the cookies and milk you leave him (plus a carrot for the horse - no joke).

If you're wondering who the dudes in the blackface are, well... those are his slaves. As a kid I was told their faces are black from going down the chimney, but as I grew I realized it was just straight up racism. People still keep up the chimney excuse, but then I wonder why they have big red lips painted on as well. The "black Petes" as they're called also like to run into class rooms and throw candy around. That shit is terrifying as a kid. I think they do it to scare you out of eating too much candy. Not sure.

Sinterklaas also carries a bag of presents just like Santa, but guess what else is in there? A stick. A stick for beating kids that were naughty. And if you REALLY fucked up, he puts you in the bag and takes you back to Spain. Dude just loves slavery I guess. Basically he is a hard version of Santa. A huge dude in a staff with a thing for kidnapping, not a jolly fatass. So that's Belgium in a nutshell for you. Slavery, racism, and free candy. Merry Christmas!

IF YOU JERKED OFF TOO MUCH...

2008-12-22T19:20:00.005-05:00

JERK OFF SOME MORE! You know how people used to say that if you beat it too much, you would go blind? Well, if that were ever to happen to you, here is the solution: Porn for the Blind! What a thoughtful organization. Thanks to Jessica Willow, the biggest pervert in the world, for the link. And if that doesn't do it for you, maybe try asking Santa for this.
PS I promise I will make real posts again before the year ends.

QUICK CLASSIC

2008-12-16T01:27:00.002-05:00

No time for real posts, enjoy this timeless scene until then.

I'M A KID - THAT'S MY JOB

2008-12-09T12:18:00.006-05:00

This is what I do when work is slow.

Miles and Buck

Buck and Pooter

RIP John Candy.

MOORDENAAR

2008-12-05T13:27:00.005-05:00

Osdorp Posse from Amsterdam was the first rap group to ever rap in Dutch. They started out in 1989 and put out their debut album in 1992. Back then, if you spoke dutch and you were cool, you had that shit. If you caught me walking down the street with my walkman in 1993 and I wasn't jamming Obituary, you know I was listening to this. These dudes were actually metalheads themselves, main rapper Def P is still rocking his long ass hair in this 1990 video. This is a different version of their infamous track "Moordenaar" ("Murderer"), recorded and shot for some tv show. Rare find! The song and its lyrics had the same controversial effect as Bodycount's "Cop Killer" did in the States at the time. It's pretty hilarious to see Osdorp now since it's some juvenile shit, plus they kind of turned into a joke, but back then the Posse was hard. Their logo was an upside down cross, and their lyrics were offensive. Def P had a trademark gimmick: he made up direct translations of common rap terms and phrases from english to dutch, and used these made up words in his songs constantly. He said his dutch version of "motherfucker" so often that it became popular enough to be added to the official dutch dictionary. You probably never heard of this guy, but when did you ever get a word into a dictionary?

CROWE

2008-12-03T21:32:00.011-05:00

Oh right, it's GPOYW again. In 2006 I was talking to my man Jesse Boots about how he was going to do a solo band ala Danzig in the future, and I was going to be his rhythm guitar player. The band would be called Crowe, after his last name, and the first album would be named Serpent (later on I would be starting another band under that name). I told Jesse I would start growing out my hair and practice my guitar skills. I recently took these promo shots to send to him, in hopes he would accept me into the band. I don't think he was expecting me to keep that promise. Spandex Youth '08!

Promo Shot:

Action Shot:

"Backstage" outfit:

TELEPHONES AND LETTERS

2008-11-27T00:51:00.001-05:00

I started to write when I was 14 years old. At the time my life evolved around death metal, nintendo, and masturbating to Callahans' pool scene in Police Academy III. I had zero interest in reading anything that wasn't a lyric sheet, and even less interest in writing. My best friend Tom and I spent a lot of time just hanging around his house watching movies and doing all kinds of stupid shit before we got into skateboarding. That particular summer, our thing was prank calling. The phone was right there, so was the phonebook, and we were pricks. We pulled some incredible pranks, too many to mention (ask me about them some time). But there was one in particular, the grand finale, one that changed my life.

It had to do with a combination of teenage boredom, Full Metal Jacket, and a guy named Dufour. One day after randomly dialing numbers, we ended up on an answering machine for a hair salon. The guy on the recording sounded, shall we say, not so manly. Being dumb teenagers from a small town, we figured all male hairdressers were gay, and having just seen that movie, we quoted the entire 'steers and queers' scene til the tape ran out. We continued that process throughout summer, sometimes even when someone answered the line. Soon enough "Dufour" became our joke slur of the summer.

The joke ended rather abruptly when the cops showed up at Toms house. Turns out good ol' Dufour had kept every single one of those tapes, had the number traced, and took the evidence to the cops. Turns out Mr. Dufour was actually gay. Turns out Mr. Dufour had problems with nasty phone calls in the past, including several death threats. I guess the cops were a little surprised when they found a couple of bored kids in tie dye Metallia shirts instead of the murderous gangsters they had hard-ons for. We had to go into the police station and speak to an officer, one by one. He pulled the good cop, bad cop routine, except there was no good cop. He tried to bully us and wouldn't believe that we had no idea that Dufour was actually gay. He was convinced we knew him, were purposely harassing him with finely crafted movie quotes, and may have been connected to the death threats.

Once the copper finally realized we were just a couple of stupid kids, he got Dufour to drop the charges, on two conditions: we were to pay for all the tapes and phone tracing equipment he bought (it was like 20 bucks, which is a fucking lot when you're a kid). And, he wanted a face-to-face apology. And that, my friends, was the worst one. Tom's mom drove us to Dufour's Hair Salon, and we went in to greet the thin, bleached blonde man who looked a little bit like the guy from Scooter. We stared at the floor and apologized. He had a talk with Tom's mom and mentioned that we had said some 'very naughty things'. He then looked over at us, uncomfortably hiding in a corner, and said 'I'm sure I don't have to repeat them'. Please, sir. Don't. I just wanna go home and catch the Simpsons. Well he didn't, which doesn't help he story much, but props, Mr. Dufour.

So that was it for hanging out at Tom's place. The rest of summer, I was on my own. Apparently I was considered a 'bad influence' to parents and I guess my mullet and Megadeth shirts weren't helping my cause. One day I was reading some kind of magazine that was available in schools nationwide or something, and it had an ad for pen pals. It sounded pretty lame, but I had no friends and no life. I placed an ad, and pretty soon the letters were flooding in. I asked all of them for pics and then replied to all the hot ones. Score! You're probably laughing at me right now, which is kind of the idea, but I'd still like to point out that this was all before the internet existed, and that I was a metalhead. That means I hung out with scumbags and girls didn't talk to us.

I got bored with all of this letter business pretty quick, but there was this one girl that I liked. I kept writing to her, and the letters kept getting longer. Through all of that penpalling I learned to express my thoughts in writing, and I've been doing so ever since. I guess I should mention that my teenage thoughts were often focused entirely on boobs. She had a huge rack, and she didn't mind me talking about it or wanting to know everything else that every boy in his puberty wanted to ask a girl, but never could. Well I could. It was awesome. Eventually I started to hang out with my friends again, and after a year or two, we lost contact. We tried to start it up a few times, but we were too old. I never did end up meeting her, and I think she ended up joining the army or something weird. But she was great. She is the reason I write, she's the reason I did a zine, she's the reason I could bullshit my way through my college papers, and she's the reason I'm writing this story. Well... her, Mr. Dufour, the cop, and Lee Ermey. Thank you.

ONE THOUSAND WORDS, pt II

2008-11-26T11:29:00.005-05:00

Priceless: Carl The Mosher rolling his eyes at Cappo in a pink dress. Pic by Ken Salerno, stolen from Double Cross for the lolz.

GPOYW/OI

2008-11-20T01:03:00.006-05:00

I figured out what GPOYW means, and I am jumping on the bandwagon ("Don't you mean off the wagon?"). It basically means once a week you get to be a stupid douche that posts pictures of himself and sort of get away with it. That said, it's also been one week since I shaved my head, so I have an excuse. Here it is, in it's full pathetic-myspace-picture-taking glory: an ode to my lovely locks. Goodbye, hair. You have served me well.

This is by far the best post I've ever done. To save face I wil say I listened to United Blood on repeat while I shaved my head, just like I did when I first shaved it, 7 years ago. And the question remains: I'm a skin, you're a skin, who's gonna suffer?

YOUR MIND IS BUSTING

2008-11-13T09:29:00.003-05:00

I don't want to be that guy that just posts youtubes on his blog, but check this out. Sent to me by Ewan, I first thought this was just another cutesy 'mellow' cover of a hardcore song, but I should have known better. After all, we're talking Walter here. This song is actually really well done. I sent it to my man Flip the Switch, and we got to talking about the cool references in the video. The obvious first one being A.F. written on his guitar (attn:noobs, this song is originally by Agnostic Front). I added that the kids throwing the eggs are wearing full camo outfits, a good nod to Vinnie Stigma's classic style. Flip noted that in the first shot, Walter is wearing shades and a chain around his neck, Raybeez style. The flowers in his basket may be for Raybeez (RIP) as later on the chain is hanging from the basket. There's a photo on the basket as well, which looks like it could be Ray. Hard to tell. Things we have yet to figure out are: what Walter's shirt says, what the drag racing refers to, and why there are no AF records in the record bin. If you notice any more nerd details, please contact me or FTS. If you just like this song, that's cool too. Thanks Walter.